


What Must Be Done

by elenajames



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Auctions, Dubious Consent, First Time, M/M, Prostitution, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 22:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11884029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/elenajames
Summary: Sometimes contracts come with a price.





	What Must Be Done

He’s not a rookie. He’s not, but he’s enough of a high-risk investment that taking part in the auction is written into his new contract. No one expects him to fetch a high price - not like the rookies who are fresh and young and exciting. Jordan - as an anal virgin - might bring a little more than bare minimum, fulfill his end of the contract, and push on into the season. 

 

The worst part, Jordan thinks, is not knowing who’s going to … bid on him. People are vetted prior to admittance, of course, but the unknown still ties Jordan’s stomach in knots. At least he won’t be auctioned off like a piece of meat on a pedestal; their profiles are online and - once the auction closes - Jordan will get an email with the contact name and information of the person who . . . paid for him, so he’s prepared for any questions once the list itself goes live.

 

Hearing the ding of his email the morning the auction closes makes Jordan’s stomach drop. He waits until he’s made it home from the gym, curling into bed before he opens it. And stares. And stares. His phone blows up with notifications, which Jordan shuts off, abandoning it on his bedside as he makes his way downstairs. 

 

* * *

 

Jordan’s nervous, and he’s pretty sure no one could blame him. NHL goalies are just … intense. Quick had been, on a whole different level than guys like Stolie and Alex were, and Mason is much the same. His eyes are sharp, an almost chilling blue as looks Jordan over with a gaze that borders on dismissive. 

 

“Hey,” he offers, holding out one hand that Mason shakes briefly, grip tight. 

 

“Weal.” 

 

“Um. Just Jordan is fine.” Jordan tries to smile, but it falters in the face of Mason’s glare. 

 

“Right. Come on.” 

 

Carefully, Jordan toes off his shoes in the entry, nudging them into place on the strip of rug housing Mason’s own. The goalie’s halfway up the stairs, leaving Jordan to catch up. It doesn’t escape Jordan’s notice that the room Mason leads him into is definitely a guest bedroom which - 

 

“Take your clothes off.” 

 

Okay. Jordan had expected a level of indifference. Some of the other guys who’d done this had warned him that could be the case, but actually facing it is different. His hands shake a little as he strips off his shirt and undoes his fly, leaving his clothes in a pile near the door. Wrapping his arms around himself, Jordan waits as Mason pulls off his own clothing, folding it neatly to deposit on the bare dresser. 

 

Mason beckons him closer, and pulls him tight into his body. His mouth warm, demanding, a surprise contact that makes Jordan gasp. Mason’s tongue runs over his lip before his teeth nip at it and Jordan shivers. Going from zero to make out is off-putting, but Mason’s touch is sure as he warms up Jordan’s body. Strong hands grip his hips and skate up his sides, nails digging in slightly to the soft skin of his back. Jordan gasps again when Mason uses those hands to grip his ass and lift him up so Jordan has no choice but to wrap his legs around the goalie’s waist. 

 

Moving them over to the bed, Mason drops Jordan down onto it, shoving him up toward the middle and sprawling out over top of him. He presses Jordan into the mattress and takes his mouth again while his fingers trail down Jordan’s body. Lube gets pulled from somewhere, the familiar snick of the cap loud in the mostly-quiet room. Jordan shudders when cool liquid gets spread over his hole, and he chokes on a little cry when one long finger slides slowly into him. 

 

“Shh,” Mason murmurs, nipping at Jordan’s throat. “Really a virgin, huh?” 

 

Jordan nods, a whimper tearing up his throat when Mason pushes his finger in deep. He winds up clinging to the goalie’s broad shoulders as Mason works him open, the odd sensation fading into a type of pleasure-pain that Jordan’s not sure what to do with. He’s still hard, at least, and plenty slick. 

 

“Breathe and bear down.” Jordan doesn’t have time to go tense between Mason’s words and the head of his cock pushing inside. 

 

“God,  _ oh _ .” Squeezing his eyes shut, Jordan tries to breathe but it  _ hurts _ . Mason stills for a moment, petting along Jordan’s thighs. 

 

“Relax.” 

 

Panting, Jordan attempts to focus on his muscles, urging them silently to unclench. It helps, some, but not enough to keep tears from welling up. Mason keeps the thrust of his hips slow at first, which Jordan’s thankful for, but he’s undeniably gone soft, the little bit of lust that Mason’s earlier attentions had stoked gone completely. 

 

“Please,” Jordan finally manages, feeling his face go red at how weak his voice sounds. 

 

Dipping down, Mason reclaims his lips, nipping at them gently. He kisses Jordan deep, possessively. It helps, moreso when Mason stays his hips and focuses on working Jordan up again. Fingers tweak his nipples and Mason’s mouth finds the tender places along his throat that make him gasp. 

 

Slowly, Mason starts to thrust again, the pressure of his cock more an ache than pain now. Jordan lets himself get lost in Mason’s mouth and touch, focusing on the little sparks of pleasure that zip through him now and again. He slides his hand between them cautiously, fisting his own dick when Mason doesn’t protest. It’s just enough to really feel good and Jordan thinks he might - 

 

A sudden sharp snap of Mason’s hips makes Jordan cry out, his orgasm forced out of him by the hard drag along his prostate. Mason’s rhythm stutters as he fucks Jordan through it, coming himself with a low grunt just before the stimulation gets to be too much. He stays buried deep in Jordan for a while, nudging his legs up as he draws out so he can take a picture with his phone

 

“Keep your hips tilted up,” Mason mutters, angling to get a proper shot. They’ll get sent off to management as proof of fulfillment, but it doesn’t make the embarrassment washing through Jordan any better. “With any luck, this is the only time you’ll have to do this.” 

 

The click of the door seems loud as it shuts behind Mason. Jordan’s bare and sore and sticky, a sudden gaping ache in his chest that begs him to at least cover himself. Wiping himself clean with one of the towels on the bedside table, Jordan pulls on his clothes and sees himself out. 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr.](http://iaintafraidofnoghostbear.tumblr.com/)


End file.
